Titles Are Overrated
by trisana
Summary: Another timewarp phic. This isn't typical, though. It's all a hormonally induced whim of a pregnant Authoress. Random, wacky, and insane. R&R please. Raoul bashing. I'm not pregnant, one of the characters is.
1. Cheese Flower?

A/N: I know, guys, y'all are mad at me for starting a new phic when I have three others that aren't finished. I promise that this'll be short, no more than 10 chappys, I promise, but all y'all will have to put up with long chappys. Iris, if I'm misusing Authoress 2, feel free to kill me, have an affair with Erik, dip me in melted batter, lock me in a room with nothing but infomercials when new episodes of Stargate are on, confiscate my _Phantom_ sound track, or any combination of the above. Although if you have an affair with Erik without killing me or locking me up first, I will hunt you down. FISH, everybody. Oh, and Trevor, you'll be in my Modern Day phic. I already wrote your cameo. Please don't kill me. Oh, and the main character won't be named for a while. And those of you who know of my propensity for random names (Anya and Demetria… I named characters after Y'ALL, didn't I? Kim, you're next) won't be disappointed. RAOUL BASHING OUT THE WAZOO! Some Christine bashing too, but it's mostly for being an idiot in areas in conjunction to the fop, who should DIE A HORRIBLE FLAMING DEATH!

P.S. And y'all know that the dude that played Scotty on the Original Series died? WELL, Iris, you know what he said? That he didn't like William Shithead (cough) I mean Shatner 'cause he hogged the camera!

Disclaimer: Leroux is a guy, old, famous, French, and dead. I am a girl, 14, obscure (until the famed **T**ris/Ra-Iris/Kee'nah publishing companies begin to pump out mistresspieces of randomness), and alive (at least until Iris kills me, or Trevor kills me). There are several differences. ALW is also a guy and famous. We've already discussed this. Can I get on with my phic now?

-

"Pack it up, kiddo," the male voice said. "I'll be waiting in the car."

"Yes, your majesty," I told my father sarcastically. I flipped my laptop shut and slipped it into my bag, singing "_I remember there was mist/Swirling mist upon a vast, glassy lake._"

Yeah, I like _Phantom_. Sue me. And abruptly, there was mist. Swirling mist upon a vast, glassy lake. I blinked "So am I know an all-powerful Authoress or what?" I wondered aloud.

"Plot majigger. I didn't want to keep you in the present too long. You might've developed a tragic past, even though you're based on a girl at a computer who didn't have a tragic past at all," said a red-haired, semitransparent, obviously pregnant version of myself. "You've got Authoress powers to a limited extent. For example, you can talk to us, and in your bag, you've got complete domination. _But_, you can't influence any of the other characters. That's my job, and hers." She gestured to another semitransparent pregnant woman, this one with an absolutely ginormous ring on her finger and a chandelier hovering above her head. "And there's several _appropriate _garments in there too. Including corsets," she added, grinning wickedly. "Oh, and one more thing. You get a boat." A boat appeared. "But, you've gotta wrangle with Erik on your own." With this, Authoress 1 and her companion, who I know to be the ascended form of my best friend, vanished.

"Well, here goes everything," I said, and stepped into the boat. To my surprise (not!), it tipped over the second I stepped in. I told my bag it was waterproof. I got back in the boat, slightly more gracefully, but still I was no ballerina. _Eleven _years of ballet behind me, and I couldn't even get into a damned boat. I managed somehow to get the boat across the lake, tipping over a grand total of eighteen times. I got even more drenched when I tripped on a rock getting out of the boat, if it was possible to increase my dampness. (A/N: I was going to have her originally manage to stay dry, but then I read some Mary Sue parody phics, and her being Sueish is my last intent. So she went the opposite way entirely)

Music came from another room. _Don Juan Triumphant. _What else?

At a pause, I decided to go in and see him. I found the right room quickly. Erik sat inside at his organ, scribbling furiously at sheets of paper, just as I imagined him. I was in no mood to stand around for thirty years waiting, so I walked over and tapped him on the shoulder.

His hand shot out and grabbed my wrist. Hard. "What are you doing in my lair?" he demanded.

I winced. I hoped my Authoress powers included healing broken bones, 'cause I was gonna need those services soon. _I've been reading _**way **_too many Mary Sue phics, _I decided. "Umm…" I said. How could I explain it? An Authoress or two transported me back in time on a hormonally induced whim? _That _was really going to fly. "I…got lost…?" I said hopefully.

He studied me. "You have an abnormally high voice," he said finally.

I looked at him. This was _not _the way a typical phanphic was supposed to go. "Are you completely _insane_? I don't have a high voice at all!"

"You have one of the highest voices I have ever heard," he confirmed.

Suddenly, I realized what he thought. _I hate you, Authoresses! _I thought. "I'm not a guy!" I protested. Yeah, so I was wearing my way-too-big Auburn Football hoodie (A/N: I believe that you know the one, Iris) and had my hair stuck down it. Surely I didn't look _that _masculine, though.

"Oh," Erik said, looking—perish the thought—slightly embarrassed.

"Can I have my hand back?" I asked.

He dropped my wrist like it was a hot coal, then went back to his frantic scribbling, as if I'd just disappear into thin air like an Authoress.

_Thanks a whole hell of a lot, _I thought. I stormed out of the lair and up to Christine's dressing room, hoping that Madame Foppess wasn't there. Lucky me, she wasn't. (A/N: Still haven't figured out if that was sarcasm or not)

-

I sat down on the floor, glaring at the mirror. "Thanks a lot, guys," I said. I wondered if Erik was watching.

"Sorry," Authoress 1 said. "I'm trying to write Angry Erik better."

"Well, couldn't you have made him Happy Erik, just until he let me stay with him?"

"That'd be too easy," said Authoress 2, "and too Mary Sueish. If you really want that, we can have Raoul rape you or something."

"What time period am I in?" I asked Authoress 1 while vigorously shaking my head at Authoress 2.

"You're in the," and here the Authoresses began to imitate _Masquerade,_ "_Three months."_

"_Of relief."_

"_Of delight."_

"_Of Elysian peace."_

"_And we can breathe at last."_

"_No more notes."_

"_No more Ghost."_

"_Here's a health."  
_

"_Here's a toast."_

"_To a-"_

"I get the picture! So, what you're saying is, 'her chains are still his, she belongs to him,' right?"

"Exactly," Authoress 2 nodded.

"So Christine still inhabits this dressing room?"

"No," they both shook their heads. "We…convinced her to move a different room."

This sounded suspicious. "Will I have to try out for the orchestra or the chorus or the _corps de ballet_ or anything?"

"Never. Again, _way _to used," Authoress 2 said vehemently.

"Well, then, I'll go to sleep for a while."

Authoress 1 grinned wickedly as I changed into a nightgown behind the screen, and said, "Get a full night of sleep. You'll need it tomorrow. You get the joy of dressing appropriately." Her next remark was directed at Authoress 2. "While we need to get that chandelier away from you, and then get chocolate."

Authoress 2 nodded, and they faded out, arguing about something involving Authoresses I and II.

"Finally," I sighed. "I can get some sleep." With this I slowly dropped off, off to sleep, and at the same time, off the bed, still wondering if Erik had heard the strange discussion.

-

(((((ABRUPT SWITCH TO NARRATOR'S POV)))))

Behind the mirror, Erik thought he was going insane. It was impossible that two women could've just _appeared_. It was equally impossible that he could be able to see the room _through _them, or that they could just disappear. But all that had happened, apparently. And certainly the girl had seen the two. He shook his head. He would figure it out tomorrow. He had work to do on _Don Juan Triumphant_.

He risked one last glance back and wished he didn't. He was faced with a further conundrum. _**How **is she still asleep with her head bumping on the ground? And why does she have that loony grin on her face? I am leaving now._

The reason she was wearing that loony grin on her face would've become apparent if Erik had listened hard enough. In her sleep, she was murmuring, "Die, fop, die… Your head will adorn my mantle…"

-

(((((SWITCH BACK TO THE THUS UNNAMED GIRL'S POV)))))

The next day I woke up on the floor, far too early for any sane being, but figuring it'd take me several hours to figure out how to put on my corset and all that crap, I stumbled out of bed. I thumbed through my bag. All _my _clothes were gone, replaced by nineteenth century stuff. Fortunately, it was all packaged into neat little packages and labeled with silver Sharpie™. One outfit said, 'For the Bal Masque in a month.' Not wanting to have to run around in wrinkles for who knows how long, I hung up everything up in the wardrobe, leaving out one package. When I opened the first one to hang it up, clothes exploded everywhere. The clothes compressor—another miracle of modern technology. The package I left out said, 'For an ordinary day exploring the Opera. GRAVY! CAKE! GRAVY! CAKE! GRAVY! GRAVY! CHOCOLATE CAKE WITH RAINBOW SPRINKLES! TOFU! **_CHILD MOLESTER!_**' I groaned. I hated it when the Authoresses passed notes on my stuff. (A/N: It's a _very _inside joke. Don't think the Authoresses are pervs)

I picked up a chemise and struggled into it. Standing in front of the mirror, I looked at myself. It was incredible. If it was dyed black, to minimize transparency, I could get into a middle school dance with it and be considered conservative. I held up my dress and looked in the mirror. No luck. I was going to have to wear that contraption. I wouldn't be surprised if it said 'made in Hell' instead of 'made in China.' Even with me sucking in my stomach, you could still see probably an inch and a half of chemise on either side of the _bright _green, and I must say, rather pretty, dress.

"I really hate you," I muttered. "How in the name of the godforsaken Red Star am I supposed to get this damned thing on?"

Authoress 2 materialized, on her own this time. I blinked. In one hand she was holding a rubber mallet, in the other a wriggling, half-crushed metal snake, and on her head, the op just brushing against the chandelier was…a William Shatner voodoo doll. (A/N: We all know you have one, Iris) "We love you, too," she said, crushing a little more life out of the snake with a 'die, Ba'al' look on her face. She continued, "And as for the corset, there's someone in there that can help you," here she gestured at the mirror with her head. The voodoo doll fell of its perch, making a desperate bid for freedom. At Authoress 2's scathing glare, however, it burst into flames.

"So I'm just supposed to skip down there and ask Erik—who thinks I'm gender-confused—to help me put on my _underwear_?"

"Pretty much, yeah." This was Authoress 1, who'd just appeared and was gnawing on a lump of dark chocolate roughly twice the size of her head. "Bad news," she told Authoress 2. "Authoress I told me I couldn't remove the chandelier. Something about a voodoo doll. Apparently she _likes _Captain Kirk. No accounting for taste." She looked utterly disgusted.

"Do you think all that chocolate will make her more inclined to write Happy Erik?" I asked Authoress 2.

"Maybe," she answered. "But I _do _know that if she doesn't give me some, I'll sick Ba'al on her."

"Umm, Ba'al's dead," I pointed out..

"Point," and she tossed the snake over her shoulder into oblivion.

"Well, adieu, I have to go. The thought of a hyper omnipotent being is rather disturbing," I said with a wave.

Behind us, Authoress 1 had finished off her choccy woccy doo dah (chocolate!) and was saying, "Cheyenne Mountain's on springs, so if a bomb hits it, it goes boingy…boingy…boingy…"

With a firm, "_Bye,_" I disappeared through the mirror, Authoress 2 giving me a 'traitor' look as she and Authoress 1 faded out.

-

Erik was again sitting with his back to the door. "Umm…Erik…could you help me with my corset?" I asked.

He turned around.

He blinked.

He turned back around.

"Put some clothes on," he growled.

"I _would_, but I need your help."

"Who are you?"

"My name is Burgoyne 172." (A/N: For all those who recognized that, email me with your knowledge, and you get a word in edgewise about this phic and a cameo Authoress) I laughed at that one, then stopped as I realized Erik would think I was even more insane than he already did.

He raised an eyebrow. "Really? Well…Burgoyne 172…what do you want?"

If this guy wasn't so sexy, he'd majorly irk my pickle. "I already told you, I want you to help me with my corset so I can actually fit into my dress. And Burgoyne isn't my name, that was just a joke."

"Well, mon- mademoiselle, what _is _your name?"

"You'd laugh." I'd always been embarrassed about my name, but never this much.

"Please tell me your name, mademoiselle."

Dude! _Erik _had just asked _me_! _Politely! _I had died and gone to heaven. Or something. I winced. This wasn't going to be fun. He'd pick up on the reference instantly, being French. "My name is…Brie…" (A/N: Yes, that's her real name)

He roared with laughter. A few minutes later, he managed to choke out, "You're…named…after…cheese…?"

My nod just got him started again. Approximately fifteen minutes later he had composed himself. "Do you have a middle name I might possibly call you?" he asked.

I sighed. "Yes. Fleur. I would prefer you to call me Brie, though."

"Your…name…means…cheese…flower…?"

Oh, God. I'd gotten him started again. I noticed Authoress 1 grinning at me over his shoulder.

-

A/N: Review, please. Meanwhile, I shall be even more evil and start another fic instead of updating! I promise that that'll be a one-shot. Just so you know, this is my Longest Chappy Ever! WOOT!


	2. FENCING!

A/N: YAY! My prestige is growing! I have the reviews. And they're not from BVP or Kit! My relationship with Erik will live another day! And I do mean mine, not Brie's. And those of you who read I Wish You Were There Inside My Mind, planet Biatch is in the Universa sector, not the Hitcha. Did you know that they have tofu sushi? It's called Inira, or something like that. It's goooooood… I spent the entire day speaking in the dialect of the language of English that is common to the peoples of the Planet Tamaran purely to annoy the dad which is mine. It did the working. Would anyone desire to come to the mall of shopping with me?

**Kit Ankia- Wildmage**-When Iris and I were passing those notes on the last day of school (cursed awards ceremony), a good ¾ of what we wrote was either 'cake' or 'gravy,' except in all caps.

**Silvermasque**-Ok, fine, I give in. You were nice enough to give me a cameo, I'll give you one. Yay! Chocolate! Licorice! (Have you ever had licorice flavored ice cream? It's _very_ good, but I don't get it very often)

**Onashii**-Hehe. The 'choccy woccy doo dah' was a reference to Louise Rennison's book, _Away Laughing on a Fast Camel_,which you should go read, as it is the random.

-

Previously on Titles Are Overrated…

"_Please tell me your name, mademoiselle."_

_Dude! _Erik_ had just asked _mePolitely!_ I had died and gone to heaven. Or something. I winced. This wasn't going to be fun. He'd pick up on the reference instantly, being French. "My name is…Brie…" (A/N: Yes, that's her real name)_

_He roared with laughter. A few minutes later, he managed to choke out, "You're…named…after…cheese…?"_

_My nod just got him started again. Approximately fifteen minutes later he had composed himself. "Do you have a middle name I might possibly call you?" he asked._

_I sighed. "Yes. Fleur. I would prefer you to call me Brie, though."_

"_Your…name…means…cheese…flower…?"_

_Oh, God. I'd gotten him started again. I noticed Authoress 1 grinning at me over his shoulder._

-

"What is your…surname?" Erik gasped out in between mad fits of laughter. "Omelet?"

I raised an eyebrow. _Hasn't this guy read any phanphics? _I wondered. "It's already been done."

"Excuse me?"

"She said, 'It's already been done.' There are only so many time-warp plots. It's even harder to be original while recycling _names _too."

I groaned. Authoresses. At least they were solid this time.

Erik raised his own eyebrow at the Authoresses. "Madame… Madames… What are you wearing?"

Oh, God. Authoress 1 was wearing a pink t-shirt that said on it in green writing (A/N: And we all know how much you love pink and green, Iris), 'I love Erik more than you,' and _neon _blue pants. On top of this, she was wearing an egg-yolk yellow cloak, and looking at Erik like _he _was the strange one. Authoress 2 was looking like she'd just walked out of the SGC, complete with zat gun and staff thingy. And I was standing around in my underwear.

Lovely.

"And who's Erik?" Erik asked, clearly hoping some other Erik was the object of this woman's affections.

"Why, you are!"

"Authoress," I hissed, "What are you on?"

"Crack," she replied sanguinely. "Remember? You sold it to me."

It was now time for some quality bashing-my-head-against-the-wall.

"Umm…cheese…?" said Erik, looking concerned.

I fumed, considering whether to yell at him or slap him or steal Authoress 2's weapon(s) and shoot him. It was in this moment of dramatic tension (A/N: See! Since it's general, it can be ANY category I want!), that another Authoress appeared. "Did you have to invite friends?" I complained to Authoress 2, as she was the only one who would listen. "Is it national Torment The Cheese Flower Named Girl Day or something?"

The new Authoress was actually dressed in something appearing to have a semblance of normal, green and silver and wearing a silver masque. Except she had a celestial looking cloud of silver behind her and insisted on standing in midair. _Why do the Authoresses have to flaunt their power everywhere? _I wondered.

"Hey guys!" she said.

"_Why _did you have to invite friends?" I asked Authoress 2 again.

"I'm Authoress 27," Authoress 27 said.

"Authoress 1…" I said menacingly. I've been practicing my menacing. "Where did Authoresses 3-26 go?"

She shrugged, adjusting her cloak. "They wanted our positions. Ask Authoresses I and II."

"So exactly why are you here?" I asked Authoress 27, noticing that Erik was sneaking off into the shadows. I didn't blame him. If you weren't insane already, contact with Authoresses could make your head explode.

"I got banned for posting a list. I'm bored. I'm having update blues."

Authoress 1 glared. "Are you going to get me banned too?"

"Are you going to post a list?"

"I mean your _presence._ You know as well as I do that you can influence this phic. You can even call in the DBCA (A/N: Dramatic Black Cloak Addicts. Read A Mirror Between Worlds by Silvermasque for further info) or something, and I couldn't do anything."

Authoress 27 grinned. All of a sudden twenty or thirty cloaked girls appeared.

"Hey!" said one angrily. "We were about to charge the stage!"

"Fine, fine," Authoress 27 said. All the girls disappeared.

Authoress 2 chimed in, "You know, somewhere, when the DBCA appeared, a girl at a computer who can make me do the 'serpent guards go bak bak doodle doodle bak bak' dance just had a conniption." It was clear to anyone with half a brain, i.e. not me, that Authoress 2 knew the Authoress lingo better than the other two.

"Because…?" Authoress 1 asked.

"Well," said Authoress 2 patiently, "Somewhere a girl at a computer who can make me do the 'serpent guards go bak bak doodle doodle bak bak' dance just had a conniption." It was clear to anyone with half a brain, i.e. not me, that Authoress 2 knew the Authoress lingo better than the other two.

"Because…?" Authoress 1 asked.

"Well," said Authoress 2 patiently, "You're an aspect of her. Brie's an aspect of her. And one of the DBCA's an aspect of her."

I felt a sudden desire to follow Erik out of this incredibly random gathering. At least they weren't arguing over Briar and Wraith's curfew again, I had to give them that. I told my bag that it had a Cloak of Shadows in it, put it on, and slunk away.

"So," said Authoress 27, "am I the only one who noticed that all the characters are gone?"

Authoress 1 nodded, pulling out another lump of chocolate. Authoress 2 poked her with her staff weapon.

-

(((((SUDDEN SWITCH TO NARRATOR'S POV, WHICH IS LESS RANDOM)))))

_Hmm…_ Brie thought. _I'm wearing a Cloak of Shadows… Erik can't see me…_

Erik was in his room, composing on the smaller organ that was in there. He didn't want to risk going back out into the main room. _Why am I being haunted by four women who seem to possess no trace of sanity whatsoever?_ he wondered.

Suddenly something jabbed into his side. He let out a high-pitched squeak, causing a giggle from some shadows standing right next to him. _Either I'm going insane from overexposure to _themhe thought, _or someone hiding in those shadows poked me._

He was poked again, on the other side. He squeaked again. The giggle sounded further away, and he noticed that a patch of shadows that looked suspiciously like a cloaked girl was sitting on his bed (A/N: No coffin in this one, folks). This was curious, as his bed was in direct candlelight, and there should have been no shadows.

Brie was delighted with herself. She wanted to put confetti in his hair and see how long it took him to notice, but he was already staring at her suspiciously and she didn't want to risk it.

Erik made his way over to the shadow, seeing if he could just pass his hand through it, like any other shadow.

When he smacked it, the shadow said, "Ouch!"

Brie took off her cloak, since Erik knew she was there.

"What are you doing in my room? Why did you poke me? Can't I just compose _one measure _without you bothering me?"

Sounds of damp turkeys being used as weapons filtered in from the main room.

The look Brie gave Erik was sufficient explanation, but she said something anyway. "I'm escaping from them. You make funny noises. No."

(A/N: Behind me, my kitten Christine is fighting with her sister Charlie under a futon. Just thought you'd wanna know.)

Erik raised an eyebrow. "I make 'funny noises'?"

"What else do you call that squeak you make when I do this," and she poked him in the stomach. He squeaked again.

"_Brie…_" he said menacingly. His menacing was much more menacing than Brie's menacing, especially as he augmented his menacing by reaching menacingly in the general direction of his Punjab lasso. Brie wondered how long it had taken him to perfect his menacing and be so menacingly…_menacing_.

"_Erik…_" Brie imitated his tone of voice and reached menacingly for her bag, in which a bulge stunningly similar to a sword had appeared.

-

(((((DRAMATIC SWITCH BACK TO BRIE'S POV)))))

I told my bag that there was a glittering Ilithien longsword in it. Not that I knew how to fence. Any swordplay knowledge I had was gleaned from Tamora Pierce, J.R.R Tolkien, and roleplaying games. Oh, and watching the swordfight scene in _Phantom _over and over. What? I'm not crazy!

"So…do you fence?" Erik asked.

"Oh, this?" I asked pulling the sheathed sword impressively out of my bag. The sheath was smelly sheepskin, and blood-encrusted even though I'd never even taken the sword out of it, much less shed any blood. I prayed that the Authoresses had seen it fit to give me some knowledge of sharp pointy weapons, otherwise I was about to, more than likely, severely injure myself.

Erik wrinkled his nose as the stench of the sheath hit him. I told it that it didn't stink. It didn't stink. It just smelled unpleasant. I sighed. Some battles you could never win. Like the never-ending struggle to beat my printer in rock paper scissors. But that's a story for another day.

I unsheathed the sword dramatically, and the glittering Ilithien longsword glittered madly, as well as dramatically. I could tell it annoyed Erik. So I waved it in front of him. "Look! It's all glittery and shiny and sharp and pointy and dangerous!" As if to prove my point, I dropped the sword on my foot. But it was an accident! Really! I _knew _I should've worn the Comfy Old Lady Loafers or the Very Cool Combat Boots…that were back in 2005. Never mind. But, yeah, wild tangent there. I dropped the glittery, shiny, sharp, pointy, dangerous glittering Ilithien longsword on my bare foot. A fun experience, if your foot is entirely numb. Which mine isn't. Oh, lucky me. Happy days. I gritted my loins and girded my teeth and yelled, "**_AUTHORESSES! I DROPPED A SWORD ON MY FOOT!_**" Erik, I noticed, was freaking out. Good. Maybe he'd stop laughing at my name then. I looked down at the bloody mangled mess that was my right foot that still had the sword sticking out of it. _Yes! _I thought. Now, I can tell, you're wondering 'why in the name of (insert expletive here) is she thinking 'yes' when she just cut half of her foot off?' Well, when you've got gym coaches as evil as I do, you learn to relish every opportunity for a few days off. (A/N: PARTNER JOG!) Authoress 1 entered, clutching a half bald turkey and covered with feathers. One look and my foot was fixed and the sword was back in my hand.

"Brie, why did I give you access to sharp pointy objects?" she asked.

"Because you're on crack?" I supplied.

"Yep. That's it," she said, then a damp turkey hit her on the side of the head, and she went charging back into the other room.

Erik blinked. I had to get either him or _them _out of here, or his head would possibly explode. People said he was mad, but nowhere near mad enough to deal with Authoresses. Getting him out was a better idea, as it didn't involve damp turkeys. I threw him my Cloak of Shadows, gesturing for him to put it on and run for his life. When I was absolutely positive that he was gone, I started practicing my fencing, but not after getting my Very Cool Combat Boots out of my bag. Authoress 1 was going to hate herself for giving this thing to me. This was actually fun! I'd never fenced in my underwear before. A few more minutes of this and I could beat the fop hands down, if he didn't faint from seeing a fourteen year old girl wearing nothing but a chemise and Very Cool Combat Boots come charging at him with a glittery sword.

"I'm a glittering Ilithien longsword," the sword said.

"Dude! My sword is mind melding with me!"

-

(((((SWITCH TO ERIK'S POV, IN ALL ITS AWESOMENESS)))))

Why couldn't I have just stayed in Persia? _Why? _Why did I have to live under an opera house? _Why? _Why couldn't I have just stayed in an inn or gotten a flat like everyone else? _Why? _Why couldn't I have just strangled this girl when she came stumbling into my lair? _Why? _Why did I keep asking myself these obvious questions? _Why? _

I was wearing that cloak that cheese girl had given me and it seemed to make me invisible. I stuck out my tongue at the rat catcher, just to see. Yep, I was invisible. Or a patch of shadows like she was when she had poked me. She told me that I had to get out of the company of those three women she called 'Authoresses,' or my head would explode. Lovely. Those three were nothing but trouble. For example, the one who claimed to be 'on crack,' had that she loved me scrawled on her chest, and was obviously pregnant to boot. Was I a sleepwalker?

Bad image.

Very bad image.

All of a sudden, the woman who I'd just been thinking about appeared just in front of me and pushed the hood off my head. "I knew exactly where you were!" she said. "Nice try of Brie, though. I'm Authoress 1, by the way." She linked arms with me for some strange reason and lead me back to the lair.

-

"Surprise!" announced Authoress 1 to a very bewildered Brie. To her, it appeared that my head was floating in midair. "I found your lover boy wearing _your _cloak, trying to _escape_! Isn't that grand?"

_Lover boy? Does she know who she's dealing with?_

Brie, however, turned a deep red. "You promised that you wouldn't say a word about that," she told Authoress 1.

-

(((((SWITCH TO AUTHORESS 1'S POV. RUN!)))))

Fish. Cheesy tacos. Purple macaroni. This is how my mind…fish. Tofu sushi is…purple macaroni. I don't have AD…monkey. Oh, haha, there's this girl, Brie. She's fun to torment. She needs counseling 'cause of her last name. I'm not telling you, though!

-

(((((SWITCH BACK TO BRIE'S POV)))))

I could feel my face heating up. I didn't want this to be a romance story. No, that's not right. I _wanted _this to be a romance story, but…it's hard to explain. Let's just say I was completely _mortified _that AUTHORESS 1 told Erik that I had a thing for him. Perfect. "You promised that you wouldn't say a word about that," I told her. I picked up my sword, which was quite talkative and threw it at her. Aww… I missed.

"Madame, I am hardly a…boy," Erik said, even more menacing than when he'd threatened me. If this was an anime show I would've turned chibi, donned a cheerleader uniform and cheered Erik on, and Erik and Authoress 1 would've turned into chibi cats, probably.

Wow.

Interesting mental picture.

-

A/N: Good night, all. My dad's about to go nuclear.


	3. Hehe Turkeys

A/N: I just realized that today is the last day that I will have at a computer for OVER THREE WEEKS, so I shall do the frantic updating. Thank you. But, I didn't get the chappy finished in time, so I've been away QUITE A WHILE. Kit, YOU NEED TO STOP CHANGING YOUR PENNAME!

**Masked Stranger**-Different was my intent. And my thought process is scarily like Authoress 1's.

**Silvermasque**-YAY! Tamora Pierce! You lurrrved George too? Yay! -claps- I have never seen any of the Monty Python of which you speak, although I am going to look into acquiring it, as soon as I save up enough money. (My goal today is to have some completely random person come up to me on the street and give me $26.99 plus tax. Then I can finally go buy _Phantom_. GAH! I still don't own it). -goes tangenting again- Pirates of the Caribbean rocks. You know, you've given me a good idea. I shall have her make Erik read the most absurd, Sueish phic ever written. (Don't worry, it's nowhere near being any of yours) No names will be named, in case the Author(ess) ends up actually reading this piece of randomness. YAY! SUGAR! -twitches-

**Onashii**-Completely pointless? I beg to differ! -realizes it was completely pointless- So, I was, like, walking along, and I, like, tripped over these crickets. Were they yours?

**Kit Anika- Wildmage**-Maybe YOU didn't think of those things when we were in school, but WE did. What do you think THE Script (and all it's compatriots) were about? So does Yuka ever talk any more?

-

Previously on Titles are Overrated…

_I could feel my face heating up. I didn't want this to be a romance story. No, that's not right. I wanted this to be a romance story, but…it's hard to explain. Let's just say I was completely mortified that AUTHORESS 1 told Erik that I had a thing for him. Perfect. "You promised that you wouldn't say a word about that," I told her. I picked up my sword, which was quite talkative and threw it at her. Aww… I missed._

"_Madame, I am hardly a…boy," Erik said, even more menacing than when he'd threatened me. If this was an anime show I would've turned chibi, donned a cheerleader uniform and cheered Erik on, and Erik and Authoress 1 would've turned into chibi cats, probably._

_Wow._

_Interesting mental picture._

-

(((((RANDOM SWITCH TO AUTHORESS 27'S POV)))))

Why am I here? I should be consuming large quantities of sugar. I should be off updating or…something. Something more constructive than watching Erik and a pregnant woman duke it out. Although the turkey fight was fun.

"Well, if you're not a boy, how old are you?" asked Authoress 1.

Erik looked quite uncomfortable. "I…would prefer not to talk about it."

"Either way, you're way to old for Brie, so what does it matter."

Erik glared. No, he _glared_. "Am I old, or am I a boy? Make up your mind."

Authoress 1 prepared to respond snappishly, "Well-" Then a handcrafted arrow hit her, but bounced off. I could tell it was handcrafted. The crookedness was a dead giveaway.

Brie was standing a few feet away with a really shiny bow. Archery, not violin, although violin would've been funnier. "Wow," she said. "Can I really shoot one of these majiggers?"

Authoresses 1 and 2 said with her, "Which is the technical term."

I decided I really had to get out of this loony bin. Then I remembered that I wasn't too sane myself. The whole 'Gerard Butler in my closet' thingy wasn't exactly what a sane person would do.

Just by looking at Erik I could tell he was thinking vaguely along the same track as me, but I hoped that he didn't have Gerard Butler in _his _closet.

-

(((((SWITCH TO ERIK'S POV)))))

Why did cheese girl interrupt my fight? It was just getting started! I'd always wanted to Punjab an omnipotent being.

An argument started up between Authoresses 1 and 2, something about a script, with Authoress 27 trying to make peace. Brie came up and grabbed my arm, leading me out. What was with these girls just leading me around like some poodle or something? We made our way back to Christine's old dressing room, which I could tell she'd made herself quite comfortable in. I wondered if it was the Authoresses who made her move, instead of the draft, as she claimed.

"What are you doing with those completely insane…people?" I blurted out.

"You think _they're _bad?" she asked. "Read this." She started rummaging around in her bag again and pulled out something rectangular and shiny and black.

She flipped it open and started tapping on it, then showed me something. "Read that," she commanded. I read the paragraph she was pointing at. My jaw dropped.

"This…person…thinks I'm in love with…Raoul? That _fop?_"

"I regret to say so," she said, actually looking regretful.

-

(((((BRIE'S POV)))))

_You were once my one companion,_

_You were all that mattered._

_You were once a friend and father,_

_Then my world was shattered._

Wait a minute. Why is that in my head? My dad's still alive! And I'm nothing like Christine! _Nothing!_ I prefer much more upbeat music.

_In sleep he sang to me,_

_In dreams he came._

_That voice which calls to me,_

_And speaks my name._

_And do I dream again?_

_For now I find,_

_  
The Phantom of the Opera is there,_

_Inside my mind._

Aah! Is there no song in the entire thing that Christine doesn't sing?

_Far too many notes for my taste…_

"I'm not that desperate!"

"Excuse me?" Erik said.

After I had showed him the basics of FanFiction, I'd just let my mind wander.

_Little Lotte let her mind wander…_

Stupid fop! Get out of my head!

Anyway, Erik had just been reading synopses for different phics, looking disgusted at most of them. He looked back at the page when he saw I was off in la la land again.

"Brie… What is this…?" he asked.

Amazing. He was looking at the actual phic instead of the summary. Then I noticed the title of the phic. Titles Are Overrated. Whoops…

"What _is _this?" he asked again.

"Umm… I don't know…"

He glared at me, then returned to reading. He glanced again at the page, rereading a line. "What is your last name?" he asked. "The Authoress says that you have to have counseling and therapy because of it."

"She wasn't supposed to say anything about _that _either!"

"Your name seriously can't be _that _bad."

-

(((((THE NARRATOR'S POV MAKES THIS PART EASIER TO READ)))))

Brie glared death at Erik for a few seconds, then snatched her laptop away from him and busied herself on it, thoroughly ignoring the fact that he was still there.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Updating. Go away," she snarled. When he didn't move, she flung an arrow at him, but missed. He still didn't leave. Finally she got up and stomped out to the empty room next door.

-

(((((MEANWHILE BACK IN THE LAIR)))))

"Anyone want a Diet Cherry Vanilla Dr Pepper?" Authoress 1 asked.

Authoress 2 looked disgusted, and Authoress 27 was having a conversation with thin air.

"This is getting really boring," Authoress 1 continued. "Anyone got any ideas for a plot twist?"

"Well, you _could_ introduce the fop…" Authoress 27 suggested.

"_That's_ always fun. Be back in a little!" Authoress 1 disappeared. She didn't have to directly supervise the entrance of the fop, but decided that it would be more fun that way.

-

Authoress 1 appeared in Christine's old dressing room (A/N: It's weird to call it anything else). Erik was sitting in there on the sofa, staring off into space. Suddenly a voice reached him.

_No more talk_

_  
of darkness, _

_  
Forget these _

_  
wide-eyed fears. _

_  
I'm here, _

_  
nothing can harm you – _

_  
my words will _

_  
warm and calm you._

Let me be 

_  
your freedom, _

_  
let daylight _

_  
dry -your tears. _

_  
I'm here, _

_  
with you, beside you, _

_  
to guard you _

_  
and to guide you . ._ .

_That fop! _Erik thought, grinding his teeth together. Clearly he was here to see Christine. Having been absent from the opera, he didn't know that his _beloved fiancée_ had switched rooms on him. Amazingly enough, the girl still thought that Erik didn't know that she and Raoul were engaged. How naïve.

Obviously the boy was expecting Christine to respond, but burst through the door anyway when she didn't.

"Why, you're that Ghost fellow, aren't you?" Raoul said upon observing him.

"No," Erik replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Very well then. Have you seen Christine? I can't seem to find her. And you might want to leave that mask off sometimes. Let the skin breathe, it works wonders for the complexion."

Erik raised an eyebrow at him, wondering if he should comply with the Vicomte's suggestion simply to see the boy faint. "No, I have not seen Christine. Is it not obvious that she no longer resides here?"

"What…?" Raoul asked.

_Very observant boy_, Erik thought. "Christine only wears white except for costumes. Does this," he held up the unornamented neon green dress that Brie had been planning to wear that day, "look like a costume to you? Christine is neat. Would she drape her petticoat over her bedpost or her corset over a drawer handle? Does Christine possess one of these?" here he picked up the arrow that Brie had thrown at him earlier.

"Umm…yes…?"

"For her fiancé, you don't know her very well," Erik commented. He saw the door open a little, and a bare arm slip through to widen the gap without making any noise. _Did the Authoresses tip her off?_ he wondered.

"No one was supposed to know that for another month!" Raoul protested.

"It's kind of obvious that you're engaged if you keep wandering around making out all the time," a voice from outside the door said.

Raoul jumped about a foot and screamed his head off. When Brie entered the room, he asked—rather stupidly, "What are you doing here?"

"I live here," said Brie, as if talking to the very stupid (A/N: Which she was). "Can I cut your hair off?"

"Excuse me?" responded Raoul. Obviously his brain hadn't processed the request.

Brie pulled out a pair of scissors and chopped off the back of Raoul's hair, causing Erik to laugh loudly.

Raoul felt at the back of his head for the precious locks, but there were none to be found. The look on Raoul's face made Erik laugh even louder.

-

A/N: I'm gonna end it there, 'cause I know you guys want an update.


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